


A Little Snow

by scavengethestars



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22796902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scavengethestars/pseuds/scavengethestars
Summary: Utterly pointless, self-indulgent snow day fluff.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Reylo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	A Little Snow

_“Ben!”_

It’s almost a screech, really, and because he’s half asleep, it jolts him awake like a slap to the face. Fear clutches his heart first, of course, and he lurches upright, hair as disorderly as his thoughts, one eye blinking open in a quicker panic than the other. He looks around to find himself right where he should be: in the living room, on the couch, on his back. Rey had been lying on top of him, and the last thing he remembered before floating off on the warm tide of sleep was her head tucked beneath his chin, her small weight rising and falling with his chest. Such peace; but now she’s awake, perched like a spaniel on the back of the couch, and he knows her ears would be perked if they could, fixated on whatever she’s seen outside.

“What is it?” he rumbles, his voice gentle, but low and heavy like dark water. There’s a soft glow against the face of the window, a pale light too timid to reach all the way in. He rubs the back of his hand across his face before carefully turning to look outside, sitting himself beside her. The glow of light is the glow of snow. An inch has fallen, and it’s still falling now, slow, chunky flakes that twirl lackadaisically from the white sky. His gaze slides to Rey, and to see her face, you’d think she’d never seen snow before. _Oh._

“You’ve really never seen a little snow before?” he asks aloud, squinting at her enthralled profile, and then slowly settling back down onto the couch. She seems to have forgotten he’s there as she clambers down, her knee landing squarely in his stomach as she fumbles away. His curdled groan falls on deaf ears, and she’s out the door before he can speak. He does, once he pushes himself back up, grimacing after her. “Rey! _Jacket_?” She’s gone.

He can hear her cooing just outside the door, marveling, gasping, letting in a draft of frosty air while she’s at it, and Ben lifts himself up, shaking his head as he grabs his own jacket off a chair in the kitchen. It’s been cold, tellingly so, but no snow has fallen. Until today, until an hour or two before they’d fallen asleep, when the warmth of Rey’s body stretched atop his own had made him forget the bracing chill of winter. When he steps outside, wincing against the breath of cold, he spots her out in the yard, the meandering trail of her footprints drawn dizzily across the soft blanket of white.

She’s standing with her face turned up to the sky, squinting and grinning, stock still for a moment as if to allow the falling flakes to land on her, as if they might be frightened away like birds. They simply collect on her dark hoodie, flickering stars gathering and fading, immediately replaced by more. They catch in her hair the way tears catch in eyelashes, clinging and bright. She’s not acting as if the cold has affected her at all, aside from the blossoms of her cheeks, and the way she shimmies her shoulders. Maybe that’s just an aimless current of excitement. She’s usually full of some sort of energy that can’t be vented soon enough.

“Fantastic!” she calls, in praise, in shameless wonder, and Ben glances down the street to see if anyone else has felt compelled to come outside. No one has, and he makes his way carefully down the steps, far more sensitive to the fact that ice may already be glazing flat surfaces than his spellbound companion is. He eyes her ruefully, approaching with his shoulders hunched against the gentle onslaught. His gaze is drawn to her, to the ridiculous stark white of the snow tangled and glimmering in her dark hair – absurdly pretty. Heaving a sigh, he crosses his arms, most everything near and far coated in a bright white, flicking his gaze out and then back, and then up, his breath leaving him in a sparkling cloud. Rey watches entranced, when she turns to face him, lips parted. Then her own breath is leaving her, a purposeful puff that materializes as a glittering cloud before slowly vanishing. She’s without words for a short time, clearly enraptured by the beauty around her, and Ben’s brow wrinkles as he glances back, wondering absently how much more the sky will sprinkle down upon them.

“ _God_ , it’s like,” she begins to well with – what, gratitude? Admiration? Whatever it is, she can’t find the words, her hazel gaze sweeping out and up, taking several steps forward before she’s turning back to face an impassive Ben. His expectant expression makes her laugh, although it’s safe to say that there aren’t many expressions which don’t, particularly when he’s striving to appear aloof. “Fine, I’ll say it, it’s like magic. And you’re the dark wizard who detests things that shimmer,” she decides, daring him to defy her as she takes two more bounding steps out, nimble as a deer. Her eyes are somehow as bright as a deer’s, too, drinking everything in, and Ben rolls his own at his new title.

For the sake of accuracy, he spends a moment analyzing in his head a catalog of things that shimmer. Loose coins? He doesn’t care for them, especially if they’re scattered about. Actual, literal glitter? No. Another mess. Stars? He does like stars. Whether or not they shimmer might require some refined definition. Water? It depends. Maybe she’s right. Maybe he’s not fond of too many things that shimmer. “I don’t like to stand outside in the cold, that’s all,” he compromises, following her path slowly, the dark of his eyes reflecting back the shine of the snow. She comes to a stop, allowing him to catch up. “You like to _say_ that,” she corrects, already breaking into a smile. Her cheeks are apples of warmth against the cold, and she reaches for his hand as soon as he’s near. Her affection is an animal, loyal and exuberant, always nosing up against him, hungry, and she tugs him in against her. His arms fit around her without thought, and she immediately borrows his warmth, her arms sliding beneath his jacket and around his thick torso.

The snow dances down a little quicker now, drawing hoops and spirals as it falls, and he can understand how it might be quite, well, _dazzling_ , for someone who’s never seen it before. It might even seem like it came from somewhere else, something people don’t ordinarily see, like stardust. It does have a sort of shimmer to it, even as it prickles against his cheeks and collects on his still hands. She’s getting cold, he can feel it: her body thrums with a chill, from her kneecaps up to her shoulders, and she blinks the eager flakes from her eyelashes with a tickled laugh. She pushes up against him, her glowing energy wanting nothing more than to draw his out. She’s like a coyote in the dark, yipping, encouraging him to sing with her. It’s as if the sky is freckled anew every night with stars, and she wants only to count them at his side. That’s what her energy feels like as it orbits around him, as it tries to hold him. “But here you are, standing in the cold,” she observes, merely to make him face that fact again. Her fingers are soft, tiny claws that dig into the hard muscle of his back.

It's true, here he stands, but not for long – regarding her with a feistiness that gives her no time to react to it, he bends and sweeps an arm beneath her legs, capturing her falling body with the other. She brings both arms up to catch around his neck, eyes wide in surprise for a moment as she takes in the new vantage point. Then her gaze is catching all the light again, landing on Ben’s face with a smile that is just as bright. If she’d considered the possibility that he might drop her, or toss her, she’s gamely accepted the risk, nudging herself in against his chest. “You _do_ like the snow, don’t you?” she accuses merrily, and she’s so pleased with the truth that Ben can only roll his eyes, turning to carry her back across the snow-strewn yard. Sun, rain, snow, fog, wind, the weather itself plays only a small part. Hot, cold, mild, torrential – as long as the company remains the same, she could substitute one with the other and his answer wouldn’t change. “Not as much as you do, so don’t worry. You can have it all,” he assures her, walking carefully back up the shallow steps and to the door, and then ducking through it, only allowing her to find her feet once he has heeled the door shut behind them.

She doesn’t step away once she’s down, and that works out nicely because he drops an arm to stay hooked around her waist anyway, a slow smile defrosting his features as he takes in her rosy face and untamed whirls of frosted hair. “But,” he goes on, lifting a hand to brush over the side of her face, “that doesn’t mean I’m going to waste a perfectly good opportunity here. So go find a jacket, because if you’re going to make me appreciate how much it _shimmers_ , I’m going to teach you to appreciate the perfect snowball.” It’s all about balance, after all – there’s magic and then there’s plain physical reality, an impish quirk coming to his smile. Luckily, she’s always seemed to have a knack for both.


End file.
